In 2016 I was in a very abusive relationship with this guy named David. Now David was a very muscular guy, probably around 300 pounds of muscle, and me at barely 120 soaking wet. We met online on Facebook, and soon started talking and decided to meet up on day after about a month or so of talking. So we met up and ended up going to his friend’s house. Of course we had some drinks and couldn't drive so we spent the night. Things got intimate between him n I and we had sex (with a condom). I didn't notice the symptoms at first cause I thought maybe I had a flu or something but one day at his house I told him I might be pregnant. He bought some tests for me n sure enough. I was three weeks into my pregnancy. Now at that time I was living with my parents still because I got laid off from my previous job and it was very hard finding work where you wouldn't spend more than have of your paycheck just to go to work. I had absolutely nothing to my name. No car, no cell phone, nothing. So David decided to take me into his home he shared with his roommate, not only because I had his kid in me but because I had nothing. I was the perfect prey for him. Especially since his house was about two hours away from my parents place.

As soon as I moved in with him it started off with little things like throwing papers at me, spilling drinks all over me and calling me a whore, telling me that that kid isn't his. Even though we went to three different doctors giving a rough estimate as to when the due date was. Everything added up and printed to him being the father. Anyways he got drunk one night and beat the absolute crap out of me in our bedroom. His reason for beating me was because I was sleeping and he found condoms in my purse and 'we didn't use condoms anymore because I was already pregnant'. Only reason I had them from was that first night I had sex with him and he knew that. But any excuse was valid enough for him to beat someone up... He dragged me off the bed by my hair and all over the carpet. He pulled chunks of my hair out. Chunks of my skin were ripped off my knees and ankles, blood was everywhere. He kept punching the left side on my face and the back of my head. It got to the point where I could feel my body go numb with every other punch he made. He stopped for a little bit. And I was so scared I literally pissed myself while he beat my head in. Now when he stopped for that little bit I found a glass mug. Under his bed and just knew I couldn't get away without fighting. He came back up to our room and started trying to beat me again. I had that mug in my hand and just kept swinging at his face with it. It stunned him enough so I could try to get away but I only could make it to the bathroom. He tried breaking down the door but I wedged by body in between the door on the sink and pushed against that door for my goddamn life. It must have been 4am by the time he stopped pounding at the door. I spent from 10 pm- 4am trying to stay alive or at least not be beaten. This was the first time he beat me. The last time he beat me (yes I was still pregnant almost three months) he tried to boot fuck me down the stairs because he wouldn't let me go to the bathroom. He blocked our bedroom door and wouldn’t let me go to the bathroom. He punched me across the face when I tried to push past him and I had it. I grabbed his hair and smashed his face against the door and kicked him in the balls or stomach. Pretty sure I also spat in his face and told him that has not going to fuck with me again. I was at the four step down when I feel a kick by my neck. I tumbled down a couple stairs, hurt my back and my belly. Things were a blur after that. I somehow got a hold of my mom. She called the cops and within 10 mins the cops were at the door and arrested him. The cops asked what happened. I just showed them my arms because I was so upset and scared I couldn't make audible words come out of my mouth. Last words he screamed at me as I sat in the back of the policeman's suv were, 'are you really doing this to me!?!?!’ All I did was lift my severely bruised arms and said, 'did you really do this to me?!’ The cops took me to the police station and questioned me for what seemed like hours. They got a statement from me and all that happened in the past couple days prior to this incident. They informed me after I was done my statement that this is the second case in two years that David had beat a girlfriend of his. I was so happy to know that I was probably going to be the last. I just wasn't impressed with how long he was locked up for. He came to my house a week after he was arrested and waiting for trail or whatever. And the cops from my town didn't do shit to prevent him coming to my parents property. I feared for my life weeks after he was finally locked up for a while where he couldn't get me.

And as of for my baby, I ended having to get my baby removed, I was going through a miscarriage and I was already at 3months. So the doctor's didn't suggest letting my body do it naturally. I had to wait two weeks to get my baby out. It was very painful and emotional those two weeks. I think about it all the time and I wish that baby was in my arms but it wasn't meant to be. It tears me apart sometimes to this day because I do want kids but I don't think I could do it. My unofficially diagnosed PTSD 'episodes' as people would call them would be triggered. Even two years later at 22 years old and I still get triggered. It really sucks because regular people don't understand that I can't handle stuff like how I used to. I can't watch movies with women getting beaten in them, I just can't. Certain days and smells and comments trigger me too. It all brings me back and I shut down and go numb.

But God, if I didn't fight him back I wouldn't be alive today. I'm thankful that I had the fight in me. I'm thankful that my mom called the cops when she did because I was literally trapped in that house and I had no way out other than suicide which I thought about for a while before my last day with him. There was no way I would have let David beat me to death. I'm thankful that I'm alive n mostly well today because of what my mom did. She saved me, but the worst part about this experience is I will never be the same person. I will always carry that with me for the rest of my life and I'm sure I'll always have triggers, but I'm in a better place now with people who love me and respect me. I have good days and bad days and sometimes people don't fully understand what I all went through. Those people I don't bother with to explain what happened. Only the people who matter to me.

Thank you for letting me tell just a bit of my story, I wish I could type all that I went through but I figured my first and last beatings were enough to make people feel something, at least a little bit.